The Remarkable Secret of Aislinn Drake
by GensouJiyuu
Summary: "Who are you anyway?" he snarled at her. "Well, that's easy. I'm your conscience." The look on Draco Malfoy's face-PRICELESS. Book compatible. Rated just in case.


**Disclaimer:**

**Genji jumps high, pumping her fist into the air. "Yes! I have finally obtained rights to _Harry Potter_ and all its affiliates! It's mine, all mine!"**

**Lawyers surrounding J.K. Rowling suddenly pop up out of no where and threateningly hold contracts and pens up. Fidgeting nervously the whole way, Genji hands the rights back to J.K.**

**"I mean they're yours. All yours."  
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**Genji stares at the ground sadly as J.K. and her lawyers poof away.**

**"Damn."**

**REWRITE NOTICE: This preface has been rewritten. Most of it remained the same, except Aislinn's mother's name is no longer Barbara, instead Margaret, her way of traveling to Hogwarts has been revised, and the last bit of the story has also been rewritten to get along with her new way fo traveling better.  
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**Preface (Or why Ancient Egypt was _r__eally_ not the best idea)**

_About 2453 BC, Fourth Dynasty of the Old Kingdom, in the reign of King Shepseskaf. _

"Aislinn! Aislinn!" Margaret Antony Drake cupped her hands around her mouth as she loudly called out to her missing daughter. Finally, after three minutes of calling and no responses in return, she huffed and irritatedly put her hands on her hips.

"Where could that girl have gone off to?" she muttered under her breath, and her husband came up and gently gave her arm a squeeze.

"Relax, Maggie," he said comfortingly. "Aizzy's probably just out at the market, talking to some shop keeper. She's fine, I'm sure."

"But..."

"Relax." Christopher smiled at his wife. Grudgingly, Margaret nodded, and let him lead her back to the tent.

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Aislinn Drake was _not _fine. Unless you would call precariously hanging from a limestone ledge twenty feet below the ground "fine." I don't think most people do, but hey, my opinion doesn't really matter here.

So, back to the problem at hand, no, she was not _fine. _

Aislinn spluttered as a large cloud of sand got blown into her face. _'Better find a way to get out soon,'_ she thought to herself. _'Don't really want to be in this pit if a duster comes through.' _She tightened her grip on the edge of the ledge and slowly began swinging herself back and forth until she gained enough of a momentum that she swung herself back up onto the narrow ledge. She grunted as she hit the rock, and then righted herself back up again before peering up at the nineteen and a half feet left of limestone separating her from the land of the sky. Aislinn frowned, fiddling her fingers together as she tried to figure a way out, until her face suddenly lit up as she grabbed an old pair of dragon hide gloves out of the back pocket of her shorts. She grinned and kissed the gloves thankfully before quickly sliding them on. She eagerly rubbed her hands together.

"Let's git 'er done," she said, and laughed at the term she had heard a couple years ago when her and her family had traveled to America. She grabbed onto a little ledge a couple feet above her head and stuffed her foot into a tiny hole just above the ledge she was standing on. As she climbed, she pursed her lips together thoughtfully and corrected, "Well, I suppose it's more like four thousand years in the future. Same purpose of speaking, though."

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Christopher watched his pacing wife, trying hid hardest not to burst out laughing. Finally, he choked out, "Margaret, you're going to end up digging right down to an undiscovered tomb if you keep on pacing like that." Margaret just shot him a red-hot glare, which only furthered Christopher's laughter problem.

"She's not back yet, and you said she'd be back!" she hissed at him as she continued to pace agitatedly on the sand floor of their tent.

"No, I said she'd be fine. Aizzy's a clever girl-she'll be back before you know it," Christopher tried to console her, still trying with all his might to hold back the barrels of laughter he was containing.

"See! Now you've said it, and soon it will all be a lie because she won't be back here and we'll have to go home without her and-"

"Hey Mum," Aislinn said as she suddenly walked in through the tent flap. "'Bout to uncover another hidden tomb with your pacing agai-"

She was quickly cut off as Margaret ran to her daughter and wrapped her in a nearly bone-breaking hug. "Aislinn, where were you? Your father and I were so worried..."

"Oh yes," Christopher spoke up from his seat in the corner, "I nearly called the Egyptian Ministry of Magic when you didn't show up five minutes after three." His amused pointed look at her mother gained a couple of laughs from his daughter.

Margaret just shot him an annoyed look as she stepped out of the hug to get a better look at her daughter. Her eyebrows shot a mile high as she asked, "Aislinn...why are you covered in sand?"

"Well, Mum, we are in a desert," Aislinn pointed out, grinning slightly. Her mother gave her a reproving look.

"Don't get so cheeky with me, miss. I'm still peeved at you for the last time you were late." Margaret peered closer at her, and Aislinn shifted from one foot to the other anxiously under her never-wavering gaze. "Why were you so late today, Aislinn?" she added slowly.

If she were an anime character, she would have sweat-dropped. "Well...that is a very good question."

"Yes it is. Does it have a good answer?" Margaret asked suspiciously.

Aislinn hesitated, and then said, "Define 'good.'"

Margaret and Christopher looked at each other uneasily, before looking back at their daughter and sighing, "Just take us."

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The two elder Drakes stared at the large chasm in the sand, wrapped in a couple of thick blankets to keep out the desert's night chill. Aislinn watched the two of them, and opened her mouth to say something but Margaret just held up a hand to shush her. When she tried to speak again, Margaret took out her wand and bound her daughter's lips together. Aislinn looked down at her mouth, slightly offended, and put her hands on her hips as she watched her parents irritatedly. When they finally looked back at her, Aislinn gestured at her mouth and Margaret undid the hex.

"I was going to say I could fix this," she commented pointedly at her mother, who just waved away her daughter's cheeky remark.

"Aislinn, do you have any idea what you have done?" Margaret asked sharply.

"Yes. I opened a very large pit in the middle of the desert. But, like I said, I can undo it-"

"Aislinn." Her father's sharp and quiet tone (not to mention the use of her actual name) immediately cut her off. "Do you have any idea what the consequences of your actions could be? What if a Muggle had seen you? You know that neither your mother or I are any good at Memory Charms; neither are you, by inheritance. A member of the Ministry, _our _Ministry, the Ministry from the _future _would have to be called in. This was our birthday present to you, and most certainly speaking we were not even permitted to do this. But we did this for you, we brought you back _four thousand years _in time. And now, because of your reckless actions and infuriating impulsive nature, your mother and I may be put on trial."

"But I made sure there were no Muggles around-"

"There's still a chance," Christopher quietly cut her off, and Aislinn shrunk slightly under his electric blue eyes. He broke their gaze and pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly before gesturing at the chasm. "Fix this, just fix this now. We'll talk in the morning. It's almost past midnight."

She hesitatingly leaned down and drew her wand out of her left boot. She swept it from left to right before sharply flicking it down and muttering, _"Repleo foramen." _Almost instantaneously the sand next to the chasm began quickly sliding into it. Soon enough, the chasm was completely covered in a flat surface of sand. Aislinn looked at the spot for a long while until Margaret gently grabbed onto her arm and tugged her back to the tent.

_July 29, 1996-Ministry of Magic, London, England_

Rufus Scrimgeour, the newest Minister of Magic, former Head of the Auror's Office, peered at the three Drakes over the top of his Daily Prophet. The two elders shifted slightly, exhibiting the nervous habit Aislinn had shown about 4000 years prior, while the girl in question looked around the Minister's office curiously. '_Is that a fanbook for the Fitchburg Finches?' _Margaret noted her daughter's probing curiosity getting the better of her again and slapped Aislinn's arm. She jolted and looked back at her mother quickly, mouthing, "What?" Margaret just gave her a pointed look before turning back to the Minister, a silent but total command to stop dropping off. Aislinn sighed, but turned her attention back.

Scrimgeour put down his Prophet, and for a second Aislinn saw the words '_Chosen__ One' _in a large headline on the front page before he turned the page over. Wordlessly, Scrimgeour turned the paper around so they would be able to read it without it being upside down. The Drakes leaned forward to read the title of the article they were pointing at:

**_Traces of Magic: The Mystery of Sekhemkhet's Buried Pyramid_**

Aislinn shrugged slightly, while Christopher and Margaret blanched an unsightly pale shade of green.

"Yeah? So?" she asked. Scrimgeour then gestured at her to read the article, so she shrugged again and did so.

_Egyptian wizard archaeologists were astounded early today when they found traces of magic in the sand above King Sekhemkhet's unfinished Step Pyramid (located in the Saqqara necropolis)._

Aislinn's eyes widened slightly, and she turned back to her parents, who nodded back. She looked back at the article and continued to read.

_The archaeologists believe the magic may be left over by some sort of ancient charm used to distribute the sand to hide the pyramid from grave-robbers._

At this she snorted a bit. Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow at her, but she ignored him and continued again.

_Archaeologists and Ancient Egyptian magic specialists are at the present time unsure of who cast this ancient magic, or when it was cast, but they are certain it is most definitely not of the Dark variety. (article cont. on page B3)_

"Well I would hope not," she muttered under her breath. "Didn't really have time to make certain."

"Hmm?" Margaret asked, as she leaned forward to take a closer look at the picture next to the article, where it showed a man holding up a magic-determining instrument.

"Nothing."

"Miss Drake," the Minister said, and Aislinn looked up. "Do you know the consequences of an under-age witch using magic recklessly?"

Aislinn thought about it, then shook her head, deciding not to voice her opinion on rules in general.

"First, you get a warning. After the warning, if you continue your offenses, representatives from the Ministry will come into your home and break your wand. Then you are required to attend to a disciplinary hearing with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Okay, quick question-how did you just now figure out it was me? I thought the Trace is put on everyone until they're seventeen. This happened months...years...whatever, ago!" she questioned.

"Unfortunately, the Trace does not appear to work through time. I have a few witches and wizards trying to sort this out," Scrimgeour said tiredly. A slightly mischievous glint rose in Aislinn's eyes, and Margaret quickly swatted her daughter's arm in warning before looking back at the Minister in all hints to continue.

Scrimgeour sighed. "Miss Drake, Aislinn as I may call you-"

"Well, actually you can just call me Miss Drake, I mean I don't really know you and-" Aislinn received a sharp elbow in the side from her mother and she winced before saying, "Aislinn's fine."

Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow before continuing, "As I was about to say, I'm not quite sure that while you are traveling with your parents you will be able to achieve the right discipline and mentoring. So both your parents and I have come to an agreement that you will discontinue your homeschooling and will continue your magic studies at Hogwarts."

Aislinn stared at him for a few seconds before cupping her hand around her ear and leaning forward. "Hanh?" she asked.

Scrimgeour smiled at her tightly before saying, "Term starts the 1st of September. Do to your...unique situation, a representative from the school will be arriving at your house within the week. Good day." With that, the Minister looked down at the remaining papers of his desk, in a silent "good-bye." The three Drakes quietly left the office, different thoughts on each of their minds.

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It was only a few days later at the Drakes' house in Ambleside, Cumbria, in North West England (which they only ever were in when they weren't traveling about-which is to say, not often) when the representative arrived to take Aislinn away. She stood awkwardly with Professor Bathsheda Babbling in the front hall while her parents stood, also awkwardly, in front of her. Finally, Margaret stepped up and gave her daughter a warm hug.

"We'll see you ripe soon, Aislinn. Not for Christmas or the Easter holidays, sadly-we'll probably be out of reach by then- but summer most definitely," she said to her.

"And we'll keep in touch by owl. Tempist always seems to be able to find us, even when we were back in-" Christoper was quickly cut off by a sharp and pointed look fomr his wife, who nodded slightly at Professor Babbling, and he coughed slightly. "Well, he'll be able to find us well," he amended after a short moment. "Have fun, Aizzy."

Aislinn grinned at her father as she stepped out of her mother's arms and hugged him good-bye. "I will. I mean, big castle, right? Who know what trouble I'll be able to-"

This time, Aislinn was cut off by her mother's sharp gaze, and she coughed just as awkwardly to excuse her pause. "I mean, I'm sure I'll be right as rain."

Behind the embracing Drakes, Professor Babbling raised her eyebrows. When she had heard she would have Aislinn in her Ancient Runes fifth years, she had been pleased. Someone besides Miss Granger might finally realize what they were talking about. But now, she realized she might have to deal with as much trouble as those two Weasely twins had given her. "Come along now, Miss Drake. We need to catch the noon train to get to the Leaky Cauldron before night fall," she spoke up. Aislinn turned her head and nodded at her before reaching down to grab her trunk. She walked up to the door with the Professor before turning back to her parents, and grinning mischeviously.

"I'll send you the very first exploding potion bomb I make there," she stated, and promptly walked out the door to the sound of Margaret and Christopher's loud, if slightly nervous, laughter.

After all, with their daughter, she might just be telling the truth.

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**REWRITE NOTICE: This preface has been rewritten. Most of it remained the same, except Aislinn's mother's name is no longer Barbara, instead Margaret, her way of traveling to Hogwarts has been revised, and the last bit of the story has also been rewritten to get along with her new way fo traveling better.**

_**A/N: Y' like? Y' hate? Y' want to throw random bananas? The review button is down there...*hunts for the downwards pointing arrow on her ratty laptop's keyboard before frustratedly crossing her arms as she does not succeed in this hunt***_

_**Well, you know where it is. *goes and frustratedly tears paper in her Tama corner while she waits for reviews*  
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End file.
